


The Language of Flowers

by LadyLisa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Art School, Florists, Fluff, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 02:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20107795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLisa/pseuds/LadyLisa
Summary: Ludwig didn't expect to see Feliciano again, so when he finally does, he's determined not to waste his chance.





	The Language of Flowers

Ludwig flipped the wooden open sign around, squinting out at the rain-washed street. Someone was rushing across the crosswalk towards the store. Despite the pouring rain, he didn’t have a raincoat. Ludwig squinted. It was Feliciano, his sketchbook with its roughed-up cover pressed to his chest, a pencil placed behind his ear like some too eager, inquisitive journalist. The door opened, and the bell tinkled as Feliciano ducked inside, panting.

Despite the clumsy chill of AC, Ludwig’s face felt fever-hot. He hadn’t seen Feliciano in weeks. In fact, Ludwig assumed he would never see Feliciano again, but now he was standing in the store’s entrance dripping rainwater on the hardwood floor. 

Ludwig had met Feliciano on an early April day, when the air smelled like spring and a subtle warmth in the air allowed Ludwig to set up some of his father’s flowers out front. Feliciano had wandered over, a sketchbook underneath his arm and his fist crammed with pencils and a worn-down eraser. He asked if Ludwig would let him come in and practice drawing the flowers, apologizing for not buying anything but as a broke art student he couldn’t afford to, and he was desperate to practice because the project was worth almost the entirety of his grade. 

Ludwig didn’t mind letting him practice. His job got lonely, and he found it comforting having someone else there with him. 

No matter how much he tried, Ludwig always ended up staring at Feliciano’s focused profile. His whole face burned when Feliciano caught him staring and met his eyes, keeping his gaze steady. 

Sometimes Feliciano talked about the flowers while he sketched. Tiger lilies were his favorite color, and lilies-of-the-valley had his favorite scent, but roses were his favorite flower. “Call me boring,” he added as he reached to brushing the petals of some striped roses. His fingers were always silvered with graphite. 

“You’re not boring.” Ludwig had said. Feliciano laughed. Ludwig wished he knew a way to stop himself from blushing; he must look absolutely ridiculous turning red every time Feliciano came over and talked to him.

He came four days in a row, always after getting a sandwich from the coffee shop across the street. He followed the same calm pattern: chatting with Ludwig, drawing, talking to Ludwig again, finally getting on his bike to head back to his dorm. The fourth day had been warm so Ludwig stayed outside fixing the flower displays (_not _ finding an excuse to follow Feliciano outside) when Feliciano had said, “Thanks again. I think I’ve gotten everything, so I’ll see you later, Ludwig. I don’t believe in saying goodbye.” He had winked and biked off down the sidewalk, leaving Ludwig feeling a rush of disappointment at himself for not saying anything before. 

He wouldn’t miss this chance.

“Hi, Ludwig!” Feliciano smiled and waved, rain staining his shoulders and making his hair stick to his face. 

“Feliciano, hello. Got stuck in the rain?” Ludwig berated himself for such a stupid question. Yes, of course he’d gotten stuck in the rain. Ludwig wished he was more nimble with his words and bursting with interesting, charming stories to tell Feliciano like Feliciano always did. Perhaps it was because Feliciano noticed things that other people wouldn’t usually look twice at, appreciating the small beautiful things meant only for people who paid attention. 

“Yeah, my bike chain is really old and rusty and Lovi kept telling me to get a new one but I didn’t listen and it broke.” He sighed, leaning on the counter. “It’s kind of nice though, because now I get to talk to you again! How have you been?” Feliciano beamed. He was rain-soaked and shivering, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, but he was smiling. 

“It’s been all right.” He muttered. God, why was he so _boring_? Gilbert’s constant insistence of him being a quivering virgin might not be so incorrect after all. 

“Just ‘alright’?” Feliciano asked. “I’m sorry.” He reached up and brushed his half-wet hair away from his face. It got curlier when it was wet, augmenting the wave in it.

“I might have a towel,” Ludwig said. Feliciano thanked him, leaving Ludwig to disappear into the small employee room where he would sit and do homework when Gilbert worked, until Gilbert had moved to Berlin. He hunted for any towels but came up empty. 

He had his coat, but offering it to Feliciano felt… personal? Not an action equal to their level of friendship? Were they friends at all? Ludwig paused by his coat and sighed. It was all he had, and he doubted Feliciano would reject it.

He sighed as he reappeared. “I’m sorry. All I have is my coat. Is that okay?” he asked. Feliciano nodded. 

“Yes, please! Thank you.” Ludwig walked out from behind the counter to hand it to him. Feliciano shrugged the peacoat on, gripping the lapels, letting out a relieved sigh and pushing his hair back. He laughed. “Do I look like you?” Feliciano asked, running a hand over his slicked-back hair. 

“A little,” Ludwig said. 

Feliciano stood up a straighter, stiffening his shoulders and putting a severe expression on his face. He glanced at his reflection in the window. “Life imitates art,” he said, smiling sideways at Ludwig, who blinked. He blushed. Perhaps he’d imagined it, but he thought Feliciano gave a little knowing smirk as if that was just the reaction he’d wanted. 

“Speaking of art, um, how did your project go?” Ludwig started. “T-the one you needed to draw the flowers for.” 

“It was about the Language of Flowers. It was popular in Victorian London, I’m sure you’d know about it.” Feliciano said with a smile, hugging Ludwig’s coat. More embarrassment rushed to his head when he realized he was hoping the orange and paint scent that clung to Feliciano’s clothes might linger in the fabric. 

“Are you cold?” Ludwig asked. 

“Mmhmm,” Feliciano muttered, raising his eyebrows as if in apology. 

“Here, come in the back. You can have some tea, or coffee, if you want.” 

“Thank you!” Feliciano grinned. 

“You could tell me more about your project.” Ludwig said, leading him to the door with the employees only sign. There was a small stove, atop which was a kettle with a burned base from constant exposure to the gas fire, which Ludwig flipped on. Feliciano sat on the collapsing couch that smelled like clean laundry, leaning against it and watching Ludwig thoughtfully, snuggling close to the collar that carried the faint scent of coffee.

“I’ll have tea.” Feliciano said. “About my project, I loved the hidden meanings in different flowers.” Feliciano sounded sleepy, which would make sense considering the bruised look of the skin beneath his eyes. Ludwig nodded thoughtfully. Flowers weren’t usually a conversational piece; most people would rather talk about Ludwig’s college studies. 

An idea drifted across his mind as he poured out the water for Feliciano’s tea and then into the espresso machine, turning the stove off. He braced himself on the counter, facing Feliciano. 

“Sit next to me?” Feliciano asked, his voice sweet as new roses after rain. Ludwig sat down. “It’s still kind of cold,” he murmured, leaning against Ludwig’s arm. Ludwig felt a shiver skitter down his spine. 

He was being ridiculous. He had only known Feliciano four days. He either needed to act on his feelings or forget about Feliciano. Ludwig slowly got up. “I… I need to do something. It shouldn’t take me long. You’re welcome to stay here.” Ludwig’s heart was beating too hard. This was a stupid idea. An incredibly stupid idea, but he’d go through with it based on his stubborness alone. 

Feliciano leaned further back in the cushions, staring at the door where Ludwig vanished and lamenting the sudden loneliness. Had he scared Ludwig off? He’d really thought Ludwig had liked him, and surely he wouldn’t let Feliciano stay in the back room if he wanted him to leave? Feliciano sank his cheek against the couch, thinking about how he’d complain to his roommate when he returned to their dorm; Kiku would be utterly disinterested, but Feliciano would tell him anyway. 

Feliciano finished his tea, but Ludwig still hadn’t come back. His stomach squirmed in disappointment again. He’d really thought he might’ve had a chance, which made the disappointment hurt more than if it his feelings had been unrequited. Feliciano set his tea cup beside the small sink. Ludwig’s coffee had gone tepid. He pulled off Ludwig’s coat and hung it back on the peg by the door and walked back into the main store. 

“Thanks for everything, Ludwig,” Feliciano said. This was his goodbye. No more lurking at the coffee shop across the street just to see him outside setting up flowers, trying to sketch him until he slipped back inside. 

“Before you go, I… have something for you.” Feliciano stilled and turned to the counter. He hadn’t. But of course he had. Ludwig passed him a small flower bouquet, nearly sweating, and Feliciano’s eyes flicked over the flowers. Red carnations, heliotropes, and rosebuds; the colors should have clashed a bit but Ludwig had an eye for what shades complemented one another. Red carnations were admiration, rosebuds perhaps in lieu of moss rosebuds, confessions of love, and heliotropes were devotion. 

Feliciano giggled. “You’re so cute, Ludwig!” He said. Ludwig smiled slightly, but it was clear there was still a tightness of the unknown in his chest even as his cheeks were dusted with blush. Feliciano set his sketchbook down on the counter. “Here,” he flipped through it feverishly to a page cluttered with sketches of ambrosia from various angles. 

“Here,” Feliciano tore out of the page and passed it to Ludwig. 

“What does this one mean…?” Ludwig murmured, squinting at the writing at the top. Feliciano sighed and then planted one hand on the counter and reached across it to fist his hand in Ludwig’s shirt. He met Ludwig’s eyes, saying very clearly his intention, and when Ludwig did not move away, Feliciano kissed him on the mouth. Ludwig stared. 

“That’s what it means,” Feliciano said, voice playful and light. “It means, do you want to go get lunch with me?” Ludwig almost choked. 

“Yes! Yes, I’d love to.” He grinned. “Let me grab an umbrella first, because you don’t have a coat.” He hurried away, returning. In the awkward silence he asked, “you… you like me?” He asked, and nearly covered his mouth because he was pretty sure that wasn’t allowed in the unwritten rules of dating, asking if someone liked you before a date. Maybe he just thought Ludwig was hot and was just trying to see where it went. 

“Do I need to kiss you again?” Feliciano asked. 

“No! Unless you want to?” Ludwig said weakly. Feliciano leaned on his elbows. 

“I think I do. But after I buy you lunch.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ambrosia is "requited love" ;)
> 
> I've always wanted to write something that had to do with the Victorian Language of Flowers because I think it's really interesting, and I finally got the motivation for it


End file.
